Cracks
by likingthistoomuch
Summary: It was coming...just around the corner
1. Chapter 1

He came into the room quietly and went straight up to the window. Staring out for some time, he asked softly, "You were with her in her last moments? Was it too bad?"

Molly lay her head on the pillow, a slight shudder passing through her injured body when as she remembered those last frantic, crazy moments. "Yes, she wasn't alone. And she passed out on my lap before...before…." taking a big gulp of air, she continued, "She had already passed out before she died."

Sherlock closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the cool window glass. "Did….." He faltered a bit. "Did she say anything?"

Molly was quiet. Sherlock turned to her and asked her again, his voice shaking slightly but louder. "Did she say _anything_?"

"I lost this game Sherlock, I lost it for you. But I will win, Mr Holmes. You will win it for me."

"Did she say my name? Molly, did she actually say my _name_?"

"I lost this game Sherlock, I lost it for you. But I will win, Mr Holmes. You will win it for me."

Molly repeated in an emotionless tone.

Sherlock turned around quickly and left the hospital room.

Molly was totally drained, but what little emotions she had, she used them to mourn for Sherlock; to mourn for his loss. Because it was all she could do; that was all there was left for her to do.


	2. Chapter 2

"You need to stay here for a few days max. Promise. And you are not even half as sick as I am of this whole charade being played out. So save your breath".

Greg walked out of the safe house. Third time this month. She didn't know what the fuss was about. Moriarty knew he had gained an upper hand when Irene died. Why bother with _her_ now? She was so fed up, she was almost looking forward to seeing him.

As she knew she would. Safe house or not.

She was home and watching a rerun of Scrubs and laughing, when she heard another voice snickering.

"Your choice of TV shows continues to scar and scare me. Any more hidden weapons?" He was dressed as Jim from IT, just a little smarter.

"Nice jacket!" was her only comment.

"Oh, this is Belstaff too. Not the Milford, obviously. Too old world for my choice."

"Leather suits you…Are you gonna kill me now?" She realized she was a bit more tired than scared. Fuck it all.

"Oh, are we in a hurry? It _can_ be arranged. But where's the fun in that Molly? Getting your heart broken, _again_…tsk tsk…old dogs, no new tricks! Maybe I _should_ put you out of your misery, it is painful to see you. Fall. Again. And again. And again…its like getting a tooth pulled out."

"Jim…."

"It was great seeing you after 3 years. Things have changed, you are same. All alone. With the cat. Heartbroken. Invisible... I'll see you soon Molly love. Maybe after I have solved my final problem. Maybe before. Who knows…..oh, yeah, _I_ do."

It was an hour before she called Greg to tell him of her guest. She had to finish watching the final two episodes and no mad man was going to disturb her. No consulting detective either.


	3. Chapter 3

What a day! She wished she could say that in a positive mood, but she just felt drained. Totally, insanely drained.

Greg was at her flat within minutes of her calling him about Moriarty's visit. After berating her and getting frustrated at her refusal to move to a safe house, he had left, fuming. She was in a way glad, because at least he cared enough to make a fuss about her. Somewhere she felt a bit warm because of that.

Next were Mycroft's minions, though if they actually got any clues or not, she had no idea. One asked her questions, the other checked her flat. They were out in no time.

Molly's next guest surprised her. It was John. He looked a bit uncomfortable, as if he didn't know what he was doing there in the first place. Moving around her sofa and approaching the window, he asked, "You waited for an hour before you called Greg. Why?"

Molly just shrugged.

Looking outside the window, he shook his head and spoke softly, "Don't do it Molly. You and I…we are not built that way. We try… and we then fall flat on our faces. This kamikaze approach."

Nodding to himself, he further added, "He makes you do that. Sherlock…makes it feel ok. But _you_ know that its stupidity, that it will not work for _you_. Because we don't think like him. We can't think like him. His brain is already finding conclusions to questions… that we don't even know exist. He makes you want to go ahead and be just a little more brazen. Don't. It doesn't work for us; it will never work for us."

"Moriarty is even crazier. Sherlock might just insult you to make you stop, Moriarty will encourage you, guide you slowly to the edge and before you know, you are falling. That what he wants, for you to fall. And if you do it on your own, more his pleasure. Don't give him that edge, Molly."

Molly was taken aback. John had never been this vocal about his experience with Moriarty before. And she understood what he was trying to say. Moriarty's words just brought to fore what she was feeling since this saga started: the helplessness, the feeling of being a burden, of no use. And the resulting rash behavior. Start a simple flutter and watch the resultant storm. The cause was so simple, the effect stunning in its cunning and guise.

John didn't have to use words to express the helplessness being a puppet in the show, his eyes showed the whole story.

The hug they shared on his way out was much warmer, with Molly promising to try to be more safe.

She received a text from Greg, stating that he had people posted around her flat that night and the next morning, she was to be shifted to a new safe house.

She was washing her face, when she looked at the mirror over the basin and saw Sherlock staring back at her. Startled, she turned around.

"You scared me!"

"Well, I am not the first one to do that today, isn't it! Your ex-boyfriend already did the honours."

She huffed and pushed by him, entering her bedroom. "I don't know what pleasure you get from calling him that. Like I told you before, Jim wasn't my boyfriend. Not that it matters. Shouldve known that you would visit. I already told what happened to Greg, John and even to Mycroft's people! If you think Moriarty left a clue behind, be my guest and have a look around. I am going to bed. Sudden visits from blood thirsty psychopaths can be pretty draining."

She put the light off and lay down in her bed, all snuggled up under the sheets. She could hear Sherlock softly moving around her flat, till the events of the day caught up with her and she started to drift.

She was just about to fall asleep, when she felt her mattress shift. Opening one bleary eye, she was surprised to see Sherlock, with his coat and jacket removed, lying next to her with his hands lying under his head. He was staring at her ceiling.

"Why didn't you call me immediately? You would have earlier. Why not now?"

Turning her head, facing away from him, she responded. "I had no idea if you were in London or away or busy or whatever. I haven't exactly seen you the last 3 months…not since the hospital."


End file.
